


With a Warming Sun

by SkyeBean



Series: Dawn Marks the End of the Night [1]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Emotionally Constipated Erik Lehnsherr, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Post-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), but he doesn't know that he's being a father figure, charles is exasperated, discussion of past murder, he's trying to be a good father figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28190205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeBean/pseuds/SkyeBean
Summary: After the events of Apocalypse, Erik can't seem to stop running into Storm. He helps her through the aftermath of everything, as she settles into life at the school.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr & Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr & Ororo Munroe, referenced Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Series: Dawn Marks the End of the Night [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2065707
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

Erik had already tried – and failed – to convince himself that he wasn’t going back to the mansion just to see Charles about ten times by the time his car pulled up to the gate.

He didn’t _want_ to be so dependent on his lover-turned-enemy-turned-friend, but…here they were, with him barely managing to last a few weeks without the other man. And to think, he once stayed away for an entire decade.

The rain that had started to patter down half an hour ago became a lot heavier as Erik pulled the gate open by the metal parts, and then turned into the mansion’s driveway. Instead of a light thrum on the window, rain was _pounding_ down on the roof of the car, drowning out all other sounds. It was cold, too – the freezing touch of the metal made Erik shiver, and then he frowned as he tried to peer out and across the mansion’s grounds.

Weather like this was unusual, and anything concentrated over Charles’ school usually meant trouble, so he kept his focus on the line of trees and slowed the car down as he made his way further down the drive.

And then—there was an ever so slight tugging on his senses, and Erik readied an annoyed retort for Charles for intruding in his mind except—

That wasn’t what Charles felt like, it was something entirely new, and then a flash of white caught the corner of Erik’s vision.

He was out of his car in the blink of an eye, uncaring of the torrential rain that soaked him through in mere moments as he crossed the tarmac road to make stride into the woods and towards the flash of white in the midst of the brown trees.

Somehow, some part of Erik knew that there was someone who needed his help, and he blinked through the rain lashing his face and misting the air, to find a girl curled up against the tree.

It was Storm, her shirt plastered to her like a second skin and her white mohawk – the thing that had caught Erik’s attention from the road – falling into her eyes. With her knees clutched tightly against her chest, Erik was very suddenly reminded that the powerful mutant he’d fought beside was just a teenager.

“Hey,” he said, raising his voice to be heard.

Ororo flinched away from the sound, her head shooting up so she could look at Erik with scared eyes.

“It’s only me,” he added in an attempt at reassurance.

Ororo stared at him for a while longer before saying something. Rather, Erik thought she said something; her mouth moved, but the pounding rain drowned out the words.

“I can’t hear,” Erik half-shouted, gesturing to his ears as he crouched down so he was closer to Ororo’s height.

“I don’t think you’ve been an ‘only’ in your life.” Ororo’s word were barely audible, and Erik noticed that her teeth were chattering – in fact, she was shivering all over, with violent shakes that had her knees and elbows knocking together.

Erik chuckled at her words, because that was what Ororo clearly intended him to do, and then settled down on the ground opposite her. Sure enough, the faintest hint of a smile curled at the corners of Ororo’s mouth.

“You’re back?” she asked after another moment had passed.

Shrugging, Erik answered, “For a few days, maybe a week.”

“Okay.”

There was another pause.

Erik pulled his (admittedly soaked) jacket off and held it out to Storm; her eyes flickered between the jacket and his face for a moment before she took it with a quiet ‘thank you’, draping it over her shoulders.

“Want to explain the ocean dumping itself on our heads?”

Whatever had begun to ease in Ororo immediately tensed again, her whole body stiffening like a lump of molten metal dropped in water.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

But Ororo shook her head. “No, it’s—you’re the only one who can…understand.”

There were weren’t many things that ‘only Erik could understand,’ and very few of them were good. It was only the hope and fear battling out on Ororo’s face that held his tongue.

“I—Apocalypse—he—I don’t…”

Erik’s brain froze for a second at the mention of Apocalypse, and then he remembered that the ancient mutant would have been one of Ororo’s first encounters with…a lot of different traumas.

“I did things—I would _never_ —and they don’t—they—” Ororo’s struggle to get the words out, to explain what she was thinking, couldn’t help but remind Erik of his own difficulties with English when he was angry and even speaking full sentences in his native tongue was hard, let alone in a second language.

“Take a deep breath,” he advised, “in and then out.”

Ororo did so. The rain calmed a little.

“It’s a good method for control,” Erik explained. “Regulates air flow to help calm misbehaving mutations.”

Ororo just swallowed, then nodded.

“Now, there are few things that only I understand,” Erik said, “and even fewer that you have done. I take it you’re struggling to come to terms with Apocalypse?”

Eyes wide with surprise, Ororo let out a shocked noise before hesitantly nodding.

“I…” she started, then closed her mouth then opened it again to say, “I killed people.”

“You did,” Erik agreed. He didn’t let his expression shift a millimetre, either into judgement or acceptance, just sitting there and starting to shiver in his soaked shirt.

“Strangers. People I had—people I had no reason to kill. I never thought I would…” Ororo trailed off, hunching down even further and clutching her knees tighter to her chest.

“Be that person?”

Something lit up in Ororo’s gaze and she nodded, almost enthusiastically. “The others, the X-Men, they don’t understand. They joke about killing, say they will kill each other over the strangest things. Like finishing the peanut butter. But I—I _did_ kill people. And they—have they forgotten?”

Erik let out a deep sigh. “Yes and no. Charles’ students are…a stupid bunch, no matter how intelligent they are, and he teaches them that forgiveness is very important. They will have met you and decided to not judge you for your crimes, and now that fact will have slipped their minds.”

“Oh.” Ororo blinked.

“Yeah,” Erik agreed with a dry laugh. “That’s half of them; the others won’t have put two and two together to realise that you killed people.”

Ororo sagged. “Oh.”

“But that doesn’t mean anything,” Erik said, forcing his expression to soften so he didn’t look quite so harsh. “Death isn’t something that ever goes away. But,” he added when Ororo’s expression turned terrified, “that doesn’t mean it doesn’t get easier to deal with.”

“You’ve killed a lot of people?”

Erik nodded. “More people than you ever will. Those ones are more complicated, though.”

“They were Nazis?”

“Yes,” Erik said, surprised at Ororo’s knowledge. “I hunted and killed Nazis for almost two decades.”

“Psylocke told me where we were,” Ororo offered as an explanation. “That those buildings you destroyed were from the Holocaust.”

Erik instinctively stiffened, but forced himself to relax a moment later. “That’s right,” he said, voice quiet. Distantly, he noticed that the rain had slowed to a drizzle. “I killed people who had hurt me, and my people.”

“Do you regret it?” Ororo asked with wide eyes. “All that…death?”

“No,” Erik answered honestly. “But I did regret the first person I killed, who wasn’t a Nazi.”

Nodding, Ororo asked, “Who were they?”

Erik had never told _anyone_ that story before, not even Charles, but Ororo was looking at him with scared yet hopeful eyes and…he told it to her. “I was in Berlin, not long after I escaped. A man tried to mug me, held me at knifepoint. I sent the knife into his neck. He bled out in my hands.”

“Oh,” Ororo said. Her face was like an open book, and Erik could easily read the fear and pity and relief scrawled across it. She hesitated before asking, “How old were you?”

Shrugging, Erik said, “Fifteen? Younger than you are.”

“I am seventeen,” Ororo agreed, straightening slightly. The move made Erik’s jacket fall off her shoulders, so she pulled it tighter around herself.

Only seventeen? That was…Erik had vaguely known that Ororo was young, only a teenager, but seventeen was…very young.

“I promise you that things will get easier,” Erik said, and he so rarely made promises anymore that the words surprised him when they came out of his mouth. “It will take time, and nightmares, and good and bad days, but it will get easier to deal with.”

Ororo pulled her knees closer to her chest, leaning her forehead down so it rest on them, and then said, the words muffled, “I don’t know if I want it to.”

“Oh?” Erik said, raising his eyebrows.

“Well…if it gets easier, then that means I am accepting their deaths and accepting the fact that I have their blood on my hands.” Ororo peeked at him, trying to gauge his reaction over the top of her knees.

Erik sighed again. “In your life, you will do things that you regret. Everyone in the world experiences that, be they human or mutant. Some people have mild regrets – they said something stupid, and it hurt someone – and some people will have deep regrets.” _Like leaving your lover paralysed on a beach._ “No matter who, everyone is haunted by their mistakes.”

“I didn’t say something stupid, I killed someone! Many people!”

“I know,” Erik said calmly. “That blood will never go away. But, in time, it will become easier to handle. For better or for worse. I see it this way: if I spend my entire life stuck on the people I have killed, then there will be other people I do not save. They are dead, that is a fixed event. There is no coming back from that. But you can either wallow in that death, or you can try to improve yourself and never do it again.”

Ororo didn’t say anything for a moment, trying to accept the words.

“It won’t be easy,” Erik continued, softening his voice. “But talking to the others and telling them how you feel will help.”

At last, Ororo said, “Like _you_ talk to them?”

They both laughed.

“Not _quite_ like that,” Erik said. He pushed to his feet, grimacing when his bones creaked, and then offered Ororo a hand. She took it, and he pulled her up. “To the mansion?”

Ororo huffed a laugh and shook her head. “To the _school_.”

“It’ll always be the mansion to me,” Erik said, and started to slowly walk back towards the road, where he’d left his car. After a moment, Ororo followed him, matching his pace.

“Thank you for helping me,” she said, voice quiet. “I’m sorry about the rain.”

“I once dived into the ocean at night,” Erik told her. “I’m not bothered by it.”

Ororo nodded, a little hesitantly. “Do you…do you want your coat back?” The way she pulled it tighter around herself told Erik everything he needed to know.

“Keep it.”

Smiling up at him, Ororo nodded; Erik couldn’t help but smile back.

“Ororo!” Hank’s familiar voice cried out, and Erik stiffened just in time to see the man racing out of the mansion. The other kids – Jean and Scott and Kurt – were right on his tail. “Thank god you’re alright, we were so worried about you when you left like that.”

“She’s fine,” Erik cut in, rolling his eyes.

Hank immediately stiffened when he realised that Erik was there. “Ah. _Erik_.”

Glancing between the two men, Ororo seemed to realise that something was wrong so offered, “I was panicking and Erik helped me.”

“You were panicking?” Scott asked, moving to grip Ororo’s shoulders so he could look at her properly. “Are you alright now?”

Ororo gave him a tight smile, glanced again at Erik, and then said, “Yes.”

“Phew,” Scott said, dramatically sagging with relief.

“After you ran out, we were worried we’d made you mad,” Jean said. “You were gone too fast for me to get a read on you, and then it was raining and the wind was so strong we couldn’t open the door.”

Ororo blinked. “It was?”

Erik wasn’t sure why she was so surprised at that, but he figured it could wait until another day given the way Hank was glaring at him.

“Why are you here?”

Raising a slightly mocking eyebrow, Erik said, “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

“You’re _Charles’_ old friend,” Hank said, “and _Raven’s_ old friend. You’re not mine.”

“Actually, Charles and I were much closer than friends,” Erik said, _purely_ to get a reaction. And, sure enough, he did: Hank’s eyes bulged, and his face paled, and he made up a quick excuse before retreating into the house.

When Erik turned to the kids with a triumphant smile, they were all looking at him in horror.

“You and the Professor had _sex_?” Jean asked in a _truly_ scandalised voice.

Erik had not thought this through.


	2. Chapter 2

Five months after the apocalypse, Erik returned to Charles’ mansion again. His island, Genosha, was doing better than anyone had ever expected, and there were already a dozen mutants living there, so he decided that leaving for a week was unlikely to get anyone killed.

After exchanging greetings with Charles – whom had clearly heard about the incident with Hank, and made sure place a hand _low_ on Erik’s hip whenever Hank was nearby – and giving the horrified Hank a shark’s grin, Erik ventured upstairs to his old room. Charles had told him that he could stay there for the week, but it was still strange to find everything exactly as he’d left it.

After dumping his suitcase down on the bed, and kicking his shoes off, Erik moved to the mantelpiece. Photos he had taken two decades before were still in silver frames, and he studied them each in turn.

Somewhere along the way, the bitterness over their First Class’ deaths had morphed into nostalgia, and all he felt was fondness as he looked at the photos. There was one of Sean and Hank, measuring him up for the wings, one of Alex and Darwin playing pinball, one of Angel half-collapsed with laughter and leaning on Raven for support. And…there were ones of him too, him and Charles.

By the time he’d finished reminiscing, and turned to go and get a snack from the kitchen, Ororo was standing in the doorway.

He felt her even before he saw her, with the familiar metal of her piercings humming a soft tune that only Erik could hear.

“You’re back,” she said.

Erik raised an eyebrow, old defence mechanisms clicking into place. “Excellent perception.”

“Was this your room?” Ororo asked, unbothered by his slightly mocking words. She looked around with interest. “This one’s always locked. The Professor says that we shouldn’t be in here.”

“And _do_ you stay away?” Erik asked, moving away from the fireplace to settle down in one of the cushy armchairs. A chessboard was still set up on the low coffee table, a game from nineteen sixty-two left unfinished.

Ororo shrugged. “One of the younger kids broke in, and the Professor was angry with him – properly angry – so everyone follows _that_ rule now.”

“Good,” Erik breathed, looking around again. It was strange to be back where he had once called home for a few months, yet be a completely different man.

“I can shout at him, too, if you want,” Ororo offered, and Erik chuckled.

“That won’t be necessary.”

She looked around again. “You know, I expected that the Professor was hiding something terrible in here, but it’s actually kind of boring.”

Erik huffed a laugh, and glanced around his old room too. “Thanks for that.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean any offense,” Ororo quickly said, her eyes widening. “Boring is good!”

“Don’t worry,” Erik told her. “I’m getting old, I guess I need to get used to being boring.”

“I do not think anyone could ever see _you_ as boring,” Ororo said, shaking her head. “You have done so much with your life.”

Erik shrugged. “I now live on an island with ten other mutants, and try to keep the peace between their conflicting personalities. Things aren’t going to be very interesting from now.”

“I don’t know,” Ororo said, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Mystique was telling us some stories about you. It seems to me that you cannot avoid trouble even if you want to.”

“That sounds like her,” Erik murmured. “Always telling people the bad things.” He glanced at Ororo again. “By which, of course, I mean the good ones. Mystique has always seen the best in me, even when she shouldn’t.”

“ _I_ like you,” Ororo said. The words were firm, and had the air of something argued many times over.

Erik choked on air. “You _do_?”

Ororo nodded. “Yes.”

“ _Why_?”

“Because you’re nice to me,” Ororo said. She made it sound so simple. “You don’t always do the right thing, but you are now. You helped me start to accept the deaths I’ve cause.”

“Huh.”

“On an unrelated note,” she continued, “do you know how to dye hair?”

Erik blinked. “What? Why do you want to dye hair?”

Ororo’s cheeks flushed. “I don’t know how to.”

“I got _that_. My question is why you _want_ to?”

“Every time I see my hair, I remember Apocalypse,” Ororo said, her face falling. “It is like a brand, showing the world that I let him control me. With it, I cannot move on and become someone new.”

Erik shook his head. “I disagree. If you dye your hair back to its natural colour then you’re trying to be the old-you again. But you’re not that person, not anymore. If you keep it like it is, then you’re accepting the mistakes you made and moving on from them.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Okay.”

Ororo frowned at him. “So you won’t help me dye my hair back to normal.”

“I won’t,” Erik agreed.

“Oh.”

But then Ororo looked sad and Erik realised that he didn’t like seeing her sad so before he could properly think about it, he was saying, “I’ll help you dye it another colour.”

Ororo’s head shot up, her mouth falling open. “You will?”

“Not brown,” Erik said firmly. “If you want to dye your hair brown, find someone else. But…”

Her whole face lighting up, Ororo darted across the room to squeeze Erik in a hug. Before he could do anything more than tense, she’d already pulled away and was grinning up at him. There was a good half-foot difference in height between them.

“I want to dye it green,” she said, sounding far too excited. “Neon green!”

Despite his eyebrows rising of their own volition, Erik couldn’t help but say, “Neon green it is, then.”


	3. Chapter 3

A few months later, Erik was once again at Charles’ mansion on ‘business’ – which Charles and Erik both knew meant ‘I am pathetic and miss you after barely any time’, even if no one else did.

But after a day there, surrounded by small and inquisitive children who reminded him _far_ too much of Nina, he retreated down to the danger room to unleash some of the grief building in his chest.

Unfortunately, it was already occupied by Storm – but, strangely enough, she was the only one there.

Erik watched from the door as the now-eighteen-year-old hovered in the air, lightning flickering from her fingers. Even as he watched, though, she tried to call down a lightning bolt only for the repurposed sentinel to walk straight through it.

A curse that Erik vaguely recognised as Arabic echoed through the room, and Ororo tried again to shoot the lightning from her hands. Although it crackled around her fingers, and burnt some of the circuits, the sentinel barely slowed. Ororo swore again.

“You’re too angry,” Erik said. His voice carried across the room, and Ororo twisted in the air to look at him. That was a mistake, as it took her attention away from the sentinel, but Erik froze it with a wave of his hand.

“You’re distracting me,” she said, landing on the floor with light-feet. “I’m…when did you arrive?” She’d re-dyed her hair since he’d last seen her, and it was now an electric blue, and there were dark circles under her eyes.

Erik raised a judgemental eyebrow. “Yesterday. Have you been down here all this time?”

“No,” Ororo immediately protested. The words were too quick to be anything but a lie, and she seemed to realise it from the way her cheeks flushed. Her mouth stretched in a massive yawn a moment later, further undermining her point.

“It’s not good to push yourself so hard,” Erik told her, and moved to turn off the danger room. “Short, concentrated bursts are much better for your control.”

Ororo looked down at her hands, and there was an upset twist to her expression that Erik hadn’t been expecting. “I know.”

Frowning, Erik moved closer to gently ask, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Ororo said, shaking her head.

“If it were nothing then you wouldn’t be down in the danger room at—” Erik checked his watch “—nine in the evening.”

“Why are _you_ down here, then?”

Erik shrugged. “Being at the mansion reminds me of my dead family, and I need to let that grief and rage out before it blows up in someone else’s face.”

Ororo looked taken aback at his honesty. “I…I didn’t know.”

“Not many do,” Erik said. “I don’t go shouting it from the rooftops, and I’m hardly the only one who’s lost people.”

“Was that why you wanted to kill those men?” Ororo asked. “When we found you?”

Erik nodded. “In Poland, yes. Now I’ve explained my reasons, why don’t you explain yours?”

Ororo flushed. “Now it feels stupid.”

“If it is stupid, I’ll tell you,” Erik reassured her. “But it probably won’t be.”

There was quiet for a moment, while Ororo gave Erik a look that was full of judgment.

Then she said, “I miss it.”

“Miss what?” Erik asked, confused.

“The-the power.” Ororo was looking down at the floor, refusing to meet Erik’s gaze. “When Apocalypse made me strong, I got used to it. And now I’m back to where I was. I need to be that strong again, to be able to call down a lightning bolt like it meant nothing or-or create hail or snow or…anything.

“But I can’t do that – I can only manage to make sparks. Even when I make it rain, it’s only when I lose control.”

Erik paused for a moment, trying to find the right thing to say; when his brain produced nothing, he decided to just say whatever came to mind. “Mutations are—weird.”

Ororo gave him a Look. “That’s what you’re going with?”

“I’m old and tired, and you’re not,” Erik tried instead. “Mutations like ours are dependent on control. Neither of us are ever going to be as powerful as we were with Apocalypse, but you’re going to grow stronger as you master your powers.”

“It’s not working,” Ororo said. “It’s been eight months, and I’ve barely gotten anywhere. I don’t _want_ to miss that power, but I do, and I regret it.”

Erik nodded his understanding. “I do, too.”

“You do?” Pure surprise, and relief, flickered across Ororo’s face. “But—you’re you.”

“I am me,” Erik agreed with an amused smile. “But power is an addictive drug, and everyone is affected by it.”

Ororo considered what he was saying, and then nodded. “How did you get stronger?”

“I trained. For years and years, and it didn’t get me anywhere until I met Charles.”

“What changed?”

Erik shrugged, and leaned back against the control panel with his arms crossed. “Well, anger was my crutch. I couldn’t do much without it, so I’d never tried. But Charles taught me to move past that. A person can only be so angry, but when you’re able to tap into a whole range of emotions? That’s when submarines start getting lifted.”

Ororo had been wearing a look of intense concentration, until he mentioned Cuba, when a something close to revelation crossed her face. “ _That_ is what the Professor was referring to.”

Stilling, Erik asked, “When did Charles talk about me?”

“Not you in particular,” Ororo quickly added, like she was worried that Erik was _annoyed_ about Charles telling people about him.

Like he wasn’t…pathetically happy at that fact.

“He teaches the hidden history of mutants on Thursday afternoons,” Ororo continued to explain. “We learned about the Cuban Missile Crisis two weeks ago.”

“Ah,” Erik said. “Yes.”

Cuba was a complicated time for Erik, because it had been both amazing and terrible.

“Anyway,” he said, “my point is that you need to work on fine control. The focus on fighting is good, but don’t ignore the other important bits.”

“What specific things should I work on?” Ororo looked incredibly like she wanted to pull out a notepad and copy down what Erik was telling her.

“Fuck, I’m sounding like Charles,” Erik very suddenly realised, dread surging through him. “I _knew_ spending time with him was going to be bad for me.”

Before Erik could complain further, though, he remembered that Ororo was still listening intently, and she really didn’t need to hear some of the finer details of his and Charles’ complicated relationship.

“Uh…what was your question?”

Ororo’s face fell slightly and Erik felt bad.

“Specific advice?”

“It’s better to know your powers inside out than have vast amounts you can’t control. My best weapon will always be bullets. For you, I’d be impressed with…static shocks.”

“Static shocks?” Ororo repeated, her nose scrunching up with confusion. “I do not know that phrase.”

“When you touch someone and get a little jolt, kind of like electricity,” Erik explained quickly.

Her expression clearing, Ororo nodded and said, “I understand now.”

“I’ll be impressed when you can give someone a static shock, without worrying you’ll give them a heart attack.”

Erik paused, saw how Ororo was yawning even as she nodded, and said, “You should probably get some sleep.”

“Alright,” Ororo said. “Thank you for helping.”

“No problem,” Erik shrugged.

Shaking her head, Ororo said, “It means a lot to me. So, thank you. You are a good teacher, and I look up to you.”

Erik froze. “You _what_?”

“Look up to you,” Ororo repeated, a smile tugging at her mouth.

“But…why?”

Ororo laughed quietly, then left the room, leaving a very confused Erik in her wake.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an interlude with some charles pov, featuring an amused charles and a panicking erik

“But, Charles,” Erik asked, for the fiftieth or so time, “why would she look up to me?”

Charles let out a deep sigh of exasperation. It had been a day and a half since Erik and Ororo had talked in the danger room, and his friend was still incredibly confused by what had been said.

“I mean, I can come to terms with her _liking_ me,” Erik continued, seemingly oblivious to Charles’ annoyance, “but _looking up to me_?”

“It’s your move,” Charles said in response, gesturing down at the game of chess they were in the middle of.

“Hmm? Oh, yes.” Erik distractedly flicked his fingers and one of his bishops moved across the board; Charles took it in his next move.

“You know, Ororo is an intelligent young woman,” Charles said after a few more minutes of Erik’s distressed mumbling. “She wouldn’t look up to you for no reason.”

Erik’s thoughts told him that he was being stupid, and questioned whether a man as stupid as Charles was really fit to run a school.

Charles chuckled at his friend’s distress. “Ororo looks up to you because you show her what she wants to be: someone who’s done bad things and is now improving.”

“But she’s _already_ a good person,” Erik said. “She spent a week, at most, working for Apocalypse. I spent decades murdering people, and then paralysed you, and then—”

Before Erik could really get going about their troubled history, Charles cut him off. “I never said that she was in the right, I simply said that that is how Ororo sees things. Of everyone who either lives in or visits this school, you were the first one she met. You were a Horseman with her, and then you left before her to do what you thought was right, so for her, you represent the person she wants to be.”

“She is nothing like me,” Erik said, frowning.

“I think you’re being a little too harsh with yourself there, old friend.” Charles glanced down at the chessboard again. “It’s your move.”

Erik waved his hand and one of his pawns moved forward; Charles took it, and put Erik’s king in check, a moment later.

“Check.”

“Oh,” Erik said, blinking down at the board. “What? When did—” he gestured vaguely at the entire board “—all of this happen?”

“You mean the whole game?” Charles asked, amused. “It was sometime between the end of the last game and now.”

Erik stared at the board, and then at him, and then back at the board. “What?”

Sighing, Charles leaned in to properly talk to his old friend. “Don’t be scared of being looked up to.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” Charles said. He was rarely this firm with Erik, but hours of listening to the man panic did that to a person. “I don’t keep many of the details of your actions from my students. That was a promise I made Hank, when I asked if he was alright with you visiting: the students have to know what you’ve done, and make an informed opinion of you based on it. No romanticising terrorism. If Ororo does look up to you – and she does – it’s because she knows what you’ve done and admires you anyway.”

Erik frowned. “Oh. But—”

“God, you’re dense,” Charles groaned, mostly to himself. “Admiring you does not mean she wants to live the same life you have, Erik. Ororo simply sees you as someone who is disciplined, and putting himself back on the right path.”

Before Erik could respond, there was a knock at the door.

“It’s Hank,” Charles murmured.

Erik immediately ruffled his hair and undid the top two buttons of his shirt, then shrugged off his jacket before nodding at Charles.

“You should too.”

Charles grinned, and then glanced at the door before shaking his head. “No, it’s something important.”

Erik rolled his eyes but unlocked the door with a wave of his hand.

“Come in!” Charles called, and then Hank pushed the door open and walked in; he was followed by Ororo.

Erik’s gaze immediately shot to Charles. _You didn’t tell me that Ororo is with him_.

Vaguely, in the background, Hank let out a choked noise upon seeing how rumpled Erik looked.

All Erik got in response from Charles was an amused smile.


	5. Chapter 5

The next time Erik visited, a month later, it was late at night so he entered through the kitchen so as not to wake the children by opening the clunky front door.

Strangely enough, there was a light on, and when Erik flicked the lock open and used it to pull the door open, he found Ororo standing in the middle of the kitchen.

Her back was to him, and static crackled in the air for a moment before she turned around with a wooden spoon held out like a knife; when she saw it was Erik, though, her face lit up in a smile.

“Erik!”

Erik nodded in greeting as he waved his hand to close and lock the door behind him. “Hello, Ororo. How’s life treating you?”

“I’m doing well,” she said. And…she’d dyed her hair lilac at some point in the past month, and it contrasted hideously with the woolly orange cardigan she’d wrapped herself in. “The Professor’s got me teaching some lessons now.”

“Oh?” Erik said with a raised eyebrow. He moved further into the kitchen, shedding his slightly damp coat. “What do you teach?”

“Egyptian and Arabic.” Ororo used her spoon to point to a ring-bound notebook halfway down the table. “That’s my lesson plan. I have no idea how it went, but now I’ve got homework to mark.”

“I’m sure you did great,” Erik told her. “What are you cooking?”

The stove was on, and there were a couple of pans with various foods bubbling away. Ororo’s gaze shifted between Erik, the stove, and then to the floor, before she said, “I—Egyptian food.”

“It smells good,” Erik said. “What’s its name?”

“Koshari,” Ororo answered, but the word was quiet. “It’s—it reminds me of home.”

Ah: the reason Ororo was up at three in morning.

“Sounds delicious,” Erik said. “Are you feeling homesick?”

Ororo hesitated, before inclining her head just the slightest bit. “Yeah—yes. I am.”

Returning the nod, Erik took a seat at the kitchen table. “Want to…talk about it?” He hoped he hadn’t sounded as awkward as he’d felt.

There was silence, and Erik glanced around to try and spot anything that had changed since he’d last been there. Nothing, really, but that was expected considering the kitchen was mainly reserved for the adults and the students rarely visited. He plucked his glass from the kitchen cabinet – the one Charles had bought for him, with a metal rim – and filled it with water before floating it over to the table.

At last, Ororo said, “It’s cold here. Too cold. They all wear shorts and t-shirts, and I am shivering in my cardigan.”

“It’s a nice cardigan?” Erik offered. He didn’t entirely agree with what he was saying – the cardigan was very orange and very…hole-y – but Ororo huffed a laugh anyway.

“Peter made it for me. He tried knitting.”

“I take it that it didn’t go so well?”

Ororo laughed again. “Everyone in school has a scarf. Most have holes you can put your head through.”

“Then I’m impressed by this cardigan.”

“I think it was supposed to be a jumper.”

Erik’s eyebrows raised of their own accord. “Ah.”

“I like it,” Ororo said. “It’s warm, when everything else here is so cold.” She hesitated, then asked, “Did you find the same when you moved here?”

“The opposite,” Erik said. “The summers here are too hot for me, and I’m wearing short-sleeves well into winter.”

Ororo studied him for a moment. “No, you’re not.”

“Metaphorically speaking,” Erik added. “Turtlenecks don’t look good on just anyone, and I can’t deprive the world of that view.”

Laughing, Ororo returned to one of the pots stewing behind her. “Raven complains when the Professor wears them.”

“ _Charles_ is wearing turtlenecks now?” Erik couldn’t help but be a little incredulous at that. “Fuck, he should _not_ be wearing turtlenecks. He’s like an egg.”

“That’s what Raven always says.”

“I taught her everything she knows about fashion,” Erik said primly.

Ororo looked him up and down and said, “No, you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t,” Erik agreed with a laugh. “Charles taught her everything she knows about fashion, and now all the horrible little children he teaches have rubbed off on him.”

A complicated expression crossed Ororo’s face. “Am I…”

“Are you what?” Erik asked when the other mutant just trailed off. While he waited for her response, he got to his feet to scour the cupboards for any alcohol.

It was only when he turned back around, his search unsuccessful, and leaned against the kitchen counter, that Ororo finished her question.

“One of the horrible little children?” The words were blurted out quickly, and Ororo sounded terribly scared of what Erik might answer.

He just chuckled and shook his head. “No. I like you. And none of them are that bad, I’m just joking.”

“You like me?” For someone Erik was actually fond of – a rare phenomenon – Ororo sounded surprised at the revelation.

Oddly surprised. Too surprised.

“You didn’t know?” Erik suddenly realised. He went still. “Shit, sorry.”

“No, no,” Ororo hurried to assure him. “I just didn’t realise, it’s not your fault.”

Erik gave her a Look, with an eyebrow raised, and she stopped.

“Alright, maybe it’s your fault.”

“That’s more like it,” Erik murmured, more to himself than anyone else. To Ororo, he said, “I’m shit at this sentimental stuff, but you’re—young, and homesick. I should have made it more obvious.”

Charles was going to laugh _so_ _hard_.


End file.
